one more troubled soul
by BookkeeperThe
Summary: The team drives home after a rough case. Jane falls asleep. [mid-season 3]


**Notes: set sometime in season 3. Title comes from the Fall Out Boy song "Alone Together." Tell me what you think!**

**Warnings: brief mentions of the death of children in the context of the case. Minor injury. **

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It had been a rough case. Kids. It was always bad when it was kids, but this one had been particularly messy to wrap up. Wayne still felt sick to his stomach, and the others weren't looking much better. Grace had her arm in a sling, elbow sprained; Cho was even quieter than usual; Lisbon had been awake for almost forty-eight hours; Jane's mask of cheer had shattered as soon as he had caught sight of the last victim and her curly blonde hair, and there were still cracks showing.

To top it all off, one of the cars was under repair after the same crash that had hurt Grace's elbow. The four hour ride back to Sacramento was going to be cramped.

Lisbon fumbled the keys twice before giving up.

"Dammit. Cho, you good to drive?"

Cho nodded and took the keys.

"Shotgun!" called Jane, too brightly, his smile wide and brittle.

"Van Pelt gets shotgun," Lisbon declared shortly. "We don't want her jostling her arm any more than necessary. And you know what, just for that, you get the middle seat."

Jane made a half-hearted noise of protest, but conceded easily. He was probably feeling guilty – well, guiltier. It hadn't been his plan, exactly, that had gotten the car wrecked and Grace hurt, but Wayne would bet just about anything he could have predicted it.

The killer was dead. It had been a good shot; no other choice. Jane had made sure of that. He had had that look about him on this one, desperate and dangerous.

Now he just looked tired.

They piled into the car silently. Wayne settled in behind Cho; Lisbon sighed and rested her head against the window. Between them, Jane crossed his arms tightly and tucked his feet under his seat, drawing in on himself. Grace turned the radio to the local jazz station, and Wayne turned his gaze to the window, letting his mind drift.

He was brought back to himself when something bumped his shoulder and stayed there.

"The hell?"

"Shh!" said Grace, twisting in her seat to shush him. The clock said it had been a little less than an hour. "You'll wake them up."

Trying not to move too much, Wayne glanced over. Lisbon was asleep against the far side of the car. Jane was – also asleep. Had to be, because there was no other way he'd let himself be caught like this, suit rumpled, one shoe off, foot pressed against Lisbon's ankle and head resting heavily on Wayne's shoulder.

"What do I do?" Wayne whispered.

"Leave him," Cho offered.

"He does need the sleep," Grace pointed out, though at least she looked apologetic about it. "Anyway, I think it's kind of sweet. Means he feels safe with you."

"That's horses," said Cho.

"It's people, too."

Wayne grumbled a little, but his heart wasn't in it. It wasn't uncomfortable, really. Jane was warm against his side, his layers of clothing providing a comfortable buffer between them, his slow, even breathing oddly soothing. It was kind of nice, actually. For a while.

"Oh, c'mon," Wayne complained. "He's drooling on me!"

Grace looked back, smiling, but her face fell as she took them in. Cho's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, and he spoke before Wayne could ask what was wrong.

"He's not drooling."

"Yeah, he is; I can feel it." There was a damp patch growing on Wayne's shirt as he spoke.

"He's not drooling," Cho repeated flatly. "He's crying."

"Oh." Wayne didn't know how to process that. Jane was crying on him. Patrick Jane, false smiles and magic tricks and vengeful fury, was crying. Silently, in his sleep. On him. Wayne Rigsby. "Should I – should I wake him up?"

Grace frowned uncertainly.

"I don't know. Maybe –"

Her suggestion was cut off by a pained whimper, and Wayne felt Jane begin to tremble, his even breathing splintering into shaky gasps – or dry sobs. Wayne met Grace's eyes, but she just shook her head helplessly.

"Jane."

Wayne jumped at Lisbon's voice, still thick with sleep. She was blinking blearily, not quite awake, but when Jane let out another whimper she reached towards him.

"Jane." He tone, firm through years of practice despite her half-conscious state, had an undercurrent of tenderness which Wayne was certain he wouldn't be hearing if she were fully aware of where she was. He was also certain that if she had been fully aware of the situation he would not have been seeing what he was, which was Lisbon's hand finding its way into Jane's curls and gently tugging him towards her.

With a nudge or two from Wayne, Jane ended up curled against Lisbon's side, face pressed into her neck, still shaking with quiet tears.

"You're okay," Lisbon murmured, stroking his hair even as her eyes slid shut again. "Easy, Jane. It'll be okay."

It felt almost too intimate to watch, Lisbon drifting back into a deep sleep with her fingers entwined in Jane's hair, Jane quieting under her touch and relaxing against her with a soft sigh. Wayne didn't think he'd ever seen either of them so vulnerable. He didn't think he was supposed to now.

When they settled and he finally managed to tear his gaze away, he found Grace also watching, her eyes wide and damp. Cho, of course, was focused resolutely on the road.

They made the rest of the trip in silence.

Jane opened his eyes as soon they pulled into the CBI parking lot and extracted himself from Lisbon's hold without a trace of embarrassment. Lisbon grumbled as she woke, took in the situation, and smacked him on the arm.

"Jane! God."

"Ow!" Jane complained, rubbing the injured limb. "It's not my fault. I thought I'd managed to rig it so I'd fall on Rigsby," he said, shooting Wayne a suspicious look.

"Oh, so that was intentional," said Wayne, as casually as he could manage, carefully not looking to see if Jane's eyes were red. "Should've known."

"You started drooling on him so he shoved you off," Cho said as he cut the engine.

"What? I did not."

"You did," Grace confirmed lightly. "It was kind of gross."

Jane looked at Wayne. Wayne used undoing his seatbelt as an excuse to avoid his eyes, but when he was in the parking lot and found Jane still staring at him he nodded.

"Yep. All over my shirt."

It sounded unconvincing to his own ears, and something indefinable flickered across Jane's face. It was gone as soon as it arrived, the familiar grin snapping back into place.

"Well then, next time I'll be sure to make Lisbon my first choice. She smells much nicer than you, anyway."

"Jane," said Lisbon warningly. Jane held up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright."

"Everyone go home, and that's an order," said Lisbon, turning her attention back to the rest of them. "Paperwork can wait until the morning."

"Yes Boss," Wayne agreed. Grace and Cho echoed his sentiments. Jane caught his eyes and gave him a crooked smile.

"Goodnight, Rigsby."

It was gratitude, maybe. Jane must have pieced together what had happened in the car by now. Wayne knew, as he nodded his acknowledgement, that this was the most either of them were going to speak of it.

"Goodnight, Jane. Sleep well."


End file.
